201 – 220 of 369 Works in Shane Hollander Needs a Hug

  • Shane Hollander Needs a Hug ×
  1. Shane gets accidentally drunk and tells Hayden that he loves Ilya. Cue mental breakdowns and Hayden losing his mind at seeing Ilya Rozanov be soft and loving with his best friend. Hayden had always known that his best friend was uptight, even before they had become friends. He knew Shane had a lot of rules and a strict timetable that he never wavered from. It had not deterred Hayden from pursuing a friendship with Shane, though. He found Shane's presence comforting, he didn't have to put on any act in front of Shane, didn't have to be on all the time. In the deepest corners of his brain, he admitted to himself that Shane was the only person on the team that he wanted to hang out with outside of hockey commitments. Shane had become his best friend, his little brother very quickly, worming his way into Hayden's heart effortlessly. In the years that they had been friends, Hayden had never once seen Shane drunk or high. During the season, Shane didn't drink at all and in the off-season, he never let himself drink more than one glass of wine. Shane had told him that he had only had hard liqueur once and hadn't liked the taste of it. Which is why he was surprised when he walked into J.J.'s house to find Shane on the couch with some of the rookies, giggling his ass off with a bottle of half empty vodka cruiser in his hand. Shane gasped when he saw Hayden, bouncing off the couch and towards him. "Hayd! You're here!" Shane exclaimed, an uncharacteristic wide grin on his face. "Hey buddy, whatcha drinking there?" Hayden asked, lips curling up in amusement. "Oh, you have got to try this! It is so yummy, it's fruit juice!" Shane grinned, shoving the bottle towards Hayden clumsily. Hayden's eyebrows raised up to his hairline and he said, "Uh, that's not fruit juice, Shane. That has vodka." "No way," Shane gasped, bringing the bottle closer to his face and squinting at the wrapping. "Lemme check," Shane mumbled and took another long swig from the bottle. "Okaaayy," Hayden sighed and pulled the bottle away from Shane's mouth. "Think that's enough, you're super drunk." "Oh no, I'm drunk?" Shane asked, eyes widening as he poked himself on the cheek. He suddenly grabbed Hayden's arms and shook, babbling, "No, no, no, am I drunk? Hayd, am I drunk? I can't believe I drank during the season. Oh no! We have a game day after tomorrow! No, no, I'm gonna die. I won't - we're gonna lose and Ilya is gonna be there and he's going to be so disappointed. Fuck, no, I can't be drunk. No alcohol during hockey. God, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid -," "Shane, buddy, breathe," Hayden interrupted, then frowned and confusedly whispered 'Ilya' under his breath. "Look, I'm gonna get you some water and drop you home and you are going straight to bed -," Hayden was cut off by the ringing of Shane's phone. "Lily!" Shane beamed at his phone, swiping on the incoming call and bringing the phone up to his ear. "Heyyy, Lily. Miss you. Where are you? Come to J.J.'s house, 'm having so much fun! We can have so much fun together!" Hayden couldn't hear what Lily said but Shane giggled and replied, "No, silly, I'm not concussed. Hayden said I'm drunk, suuuuper drunk. I drunk vodka. No, 's supposed to be drink? Drunked? Drank?" "Shane, maybe you shouldn't talk to anyone right now," Hayden said, reaching for Shane's phone. "No, he's mine," Shane pouted, cradling his phone protectively with both hands. "My baby." Lily must have said something because Shane suddenly smiled brightly, Hayden had never seen him look so happy before. "Really?" Shane's eyes had gone glassy and Hayden was seriously debating forcefully wrestling Shane into his car to drive him home if necessary. Hayden scowled when J.J. suddenly stumbled over to them, wrapping an arm around Shane's shoulders. "Why the fuck did you give him alcohol, man?" "Relax, dude. This is only, like, his second or third bottle," J.J. shrugged. "Yeah, relax, dude," Shane huffed at him before going back to listen to what Lily was saying to him. "Come on, Comeau is setting up beer pong!" J.J. exclaimed, looking drunker than Shane. He then squinted at Shane's phone and asked, "Who're you talking to anyways?" "The love of my life," Shane sighed dopily. He giggled again, in response to Lily, Hayden assumed, and said, "Talkin' 'bout you, silly-billy." Hayden removed J.J.'s arm from Shane and declared, "I'm driving him home now, he's had enough." "Noooo, I don't wanna go!" Shane whined, tapering off as he focused on what Lily was saying. His face drew into a pout the longer he listened to Lily and a minute later, he grumbled, "Fine, I'll let Hayden drive me home. 's no fair, though." "Oh, thank god," Hayden groaned, head tipping back in relief. "'k, love you," Shane muttered into the phone, dejectedly shoving it into his pocket after. "I just love him so much," Shane sighed and Hayden noticed his head lolling towards him from the corner of his eye. Hayden asked, distracted as he focused on the busy road, "You love who, buddy?" "Lily," Shane breathed.

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    AO3:
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  2. Shane Hollander wakes up in a hospital room convinced it’s 2016 — and that Ilya Rozanov is still his biggest rival, someone he’s supposed to hate.
    But the world has changed. It’s 2025. They play for the same team, live in the same house, and Ilya Rozanov is wearing a wedding ring.
    Now Shane has to relive nine lost years, learn to trust his ‘enemy,’ and find out whether he can fall in love with his own husband all over again.

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    AO3:
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  3. Shane's pregnant. They've beaten the impossible odds, and now they have seven months to figure out what comes next. Or: Moments throughout Shane's pregnancy, from the first trimester's uncertainty to the final weeks, and when everything changes forever.

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  4. "What happened?" "I missed the edge of the table." Shane curled inward a little more, tense. "No shit," Ilya said, unimpressed. "How did Montreal's number one scorer miss this big table?" Now Shane cracked an eye at him. "Fuck off, Rozanov." "Shane." He sighed. "I can't really see right now." Shane gets a migraine at the cottage. Ilya learns how to help. Shane returned to wakefulness slowly in the late afternoon sun, lake water long since having evaporated from his swim trunks as he napped in the lounge chair. Content to remain in the blurry, quiet space between sleep and alertness, he kept his eyes closed and just breathed. His towel was soft and sun-warmed where he had tossed it over his bare chest and arms for sun protection before sliding on his sunglasses and conking out. Romping and splashing in the lake with Ilya like Hayden's twin children had tired them both out. He shifted slightly, wincing at the stiff pull of his neck after sleeping too long in the outdoor chair and cracked one eye open. His boyfriend was sprawled, loose-limbed, in the chair beside Shane's, but turned the wrong way around. Ilya lay on his stomach, head pillowed on his towel at the foot of the long chair, his strong back curving appealingly over the wooden slats. One arm was bent around his head, flattening half of Ilya's fluffy wet-then-dried curls. The other was draped across the distance between their chairs, his big hand resting warm and possessive on Shane's ankle. Shane huffed lightly, amused. He pried the other eye open and rolled his head to the left to admire the expanse of warm, golden skin as Ilya basked in the warmth of the afternoon. (He was only a man, after all.) Then, because he was also a little shit sometimes (and he wanted to see Ilya's eyes when he woke up), he flexed one leg and wiggled the ankle that Ilya's fingers loosely cradled, jostling him. "Ilya. You're going to burn." "Nyet," his boyfriend replied, not opening his eyes. He squeezed once, tightly, thumb rolling over the knobby bone of Shane's ankle. "You need sunscreen. Or a shirt," Shane said, wobbling his ankle again. This time, Ilya inhaled deeply with annoyance and aimed a sleepy, slitted glare at Shane. Shane couldn't help but smile at him. "You just want me covered because I am too beautiful to look at," Ilya lamented, releasing Shane's ankle and rolling dramatically to his side. "Is ok, Hollander. Many people tell me this." Shane blinked a few times to try and clear away the blurriness of sleep. He really shouldn't have allowed himself to nap - he always feels like he woke up in another dimension. Ilya swung his feet to the ground and stood, stretching until his spine popped. "I'm hungry. Ready to go in?" Shane nodded, regretting that he hadn't brought a water bottle out to the chairs. His mouth felt cottony. "Yeah. Let's go." He toed on his slides and trailed behind Ilya up the stairs to the cottage, still feeling blurry around the edges, but content with the prospect of the evening ahead. They had plenty of easy options for dinner, and they were slowly working through the catalog of terrible action movies on Netflix. Though Ilya had asked on the way to the cottage, eyes sharp and laughing, if their plan was really to relax, they had been taking the chance to just spend time in each other's presence without rushing. Now, Shane knew that Ilya got short-tempered and nonverbal if he didn't have coffee within 30 minutes of waking, and Ilya had learned that Shane had a visceral, full-body reaction to stepping in a puddle on the bathroom floor if Ilya forgot to use a shower mat. They were learning each others' orbits. Ilya opened the back door and stepped aside, brushing a hand lightly on Shane's lower back as he stepped in. "Sandwiches ok? I will shower, then we eat?" "Sure," Shane said. "I got the pickles you like. I'll start getting things out in a minute. He slipped off his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes roughly, internally cursing the sun's afterimage still lingering in his vision. "I just need to grab some water." Ilya nodded, eyes lingering briefly as Shane made his way around the kitchen to grab a glass, hand trailing on the island countertop. "You ok?" "What? Yeah, fine. Just didn't drink enough today, I guess." Shane selected a glass and turned on the tap, watching the water slowly fill. It really was good water. Ilya padded over behind him to press a smacking kiss to the back of Shane's bare shoulder, squeezing his hip. "You sit, I will be gourmet sandwich chef after I shower." Shane laughed. "Okay." He turned and kissed Ilya back, reveling in the ease which has come with familiarity and time. "Go shower." Ilya smacked him lightly on the ass, eyes fond and warm and maybe anticipating what would likely happen when they got bored of the movie (Shane would never admit that watching a movie on the couch with Ilya in his soft sweatpants and long sleeves made him unspeakably handsy.) Grabbing his towel, he headed for the shower. Shane made his way down to the living room and dropped onto the couch with a sigh, water still in his hand. He tipped his head back until it rested on the cushion. He also should shower the lake water off, but he couldn't quite blink the sun spots from his eyes from their long afternoon outside. And he really needed to hydrate. He raised the glass to his lips and drained half of it, eyes still squeezed shut, and focused on breathing slowly to abate the vague nausea that was rising. Shane heard the shower turn off in the master bathroom. He needed to get moving before Ilya came out and saw him sitting in the living room with the lights off like a lunatic. He opened his bleary eyes and leaned forward to place the glass on the coffee table so that he could make his way to the shower, starting to lever to his feet when— CRASH. Shane flinched and leapt to his feet, startled by the noise of his glass shattering on the floor. Shit. Cold water splashed onto his bare feet and shins, but his vision was still weird, hazy around the edges and a little wavy like sun on concrete in the summer and where was the edge of the coffee table and— The sound of bare footsteps in the hall, quick. "—what—Shane—fuck—no, do not move—"

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  5. Shane feels his feelings after the locker room scene in The Long Game i.e. Shane finally gets to crash out about being Asian-Canadian in a majority white sport and all the things that comes with.

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  6. Ilya gave Shane the ugliest fucking orange lamp as a well-meaning gift. Now Shane wants it gone, just like how the man who gave it to him is.
    Set during The Long Game, with Ilya unable to contact Shane after the emergency landing. Shane believes he's dead, spirals, and then smashes some lamps.
    This wasn’t meant to be taken seriously but it took a turn and I was powerless to stop it.

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  7. Snapshots by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • T
    • ✓

    2026-01-21

    It was clear by the tone of Shane’s voice that he was not doing well, he was panicking and he was begging for Ilya to fix it and he wished for nothing more than to catch the next flight to Montreal and hold Shane in his arms and fucking fix it but he knew that was impossible. Or, Shane navigates being a transgender professional athlete and Ilya is by his side every step of the way.

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  8. There’s a sudden cacophony of yells. As Shane turns to find the source of the noise, the only thing he can see is red splattered across the ice and a #81 jersey.

    For an absurd moment, all he can think is “my parents are at this game. Hayden and Jackie are in the stands. Thank god the kids aren’t here.”

    He doesn’t remember moving, but the next thing he knows, he’s kneeling in a pool of blood with his hands on Ilya’s neck, certain that he was about to die.

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  9. It's been a long day. A good day for the most part...all things considered. But that's kind of the problem. Because once Shane's parents leave after coming for dinner, he finally lets himself consider all the things that have happened, and will happen, and might happen for him and Ilya. The panic attack he didn't quite have at his parents dining room table hits him like a ton of bricks, and poor Ilya is the unfortunate bystander. [Takes place later in the evening, the day Shane and Ilya get caught].

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  10. Ilya is recovering after the brain surgery but recovery rerely is a straight line. And Ilya, done with hospitals, is up to mischief. Fortunately, Shane is there to make sure Ilya stays alive. *** This is set between "Hold On (I Still Want You)" and "Come Back (I Still Need You)" and focuses on Ilya's recovery after the brain surgery he underwent. It can be read as stand-alone but I think it's probably best to read at least first part of my series to get some context!

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  11. Ilya opened one of his messages. Have you seen the news? Ilya, call me. Now. Please tell me you already fucking know. Jesus Christ, man. That was it. No context. No explanation. Just panic wrapped in vague bullshit. His jaw locked. “Are you fucking serious right now,” he muttered, thumb scrolling harder than necessary. Say it or don’t, you assholes. The half-answers made his skin crawl. It felt like they were all circling something awful, whispering around it, waiting for him to step close enough to get hit. His chest felt tight now, pressure building, so he did the one thing that made sense. He opened social media. Shane Hollander’s name was everywhere. Or Shane was hurt in ways everyone could see, and in ways only Ilya would carry.

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  12. This morning is not routine. This morning he didn't wake up before Ilya. This morning, Ilya decided his routine for him. Waking him up with a kiss and his breakfast already prepared. It was sweet, really, it was, (except his skin itched and he could feel his bones—) and normally Ilya doing this for him was fine, but normally it isn't his first week on a new team. He was so close to finishing this week, so close to being able to check this off his evergrowing list of things to make it through this monumental season of firsts. or, Shane is having a hard time adjusting to the teasing and familiarity and learns that he is safe here with the help of his new team

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  13. Do Not Disturb by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ?
    • ✓

    2026-01-18

    Shane waits for Ilya’s arm to curl around his waist, for the familiar weight of his body to press in close and ground him again.

    Except it never comes.

    He was gone. Ilya left.

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    AO3:
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  14. Trainers praised his “elite conditioning.” Commentators talked about his jawline, his speed, the way he seemed carved rather than built. No one asked how he stayed that way. By twenty-two, Shane’s life ran on control. Ice time. Calories. Sleep. Reps. He tracked everything with the same ruthless precision he brought to his shot. When he was a kid in Saskatchewan, control had been a luxury. His parents’ divorce. The financial stress. The way people talked about him—too flashy, too arrogant, too much. Control was something he built himself. Brick by brick. Hockey rewarded it.

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  15. Shane groaned, eyes cracking open with great effort, the distant sound of barking getting closer and closer, and he couldn’t help but wince at the volume as it pierced right through him. “Anya.” He managed to get out, and the dog in question nudged at his head, another groan eliciting from Shane’s lips at the movement. He was struggling to understand what was happening, but everything was fuzzy and scrambled and he couldn't hold onto a single thought for long enough to string anything tangible together. “Ilya.” He exhaled as Anya nudged him again. “Get Ilya….Anya, find Ilya.” or Shane slips and falls on ice while out walking Anya, and Anya is just your everyday Lassie.

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    AO3:
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  16. Shane Hollander’s life is over. No more fame, no more hockey, no more fans. When Shane awakens latent omega tendencies and triggers a breakthrough heat, Shane has to learn what it means to be, not just an omega, but an omega with Ilya Rozanov as his alpha.

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  17. "I know it's not fair to you. It's such bullshit, I should speak your language. Everyone should. You speak my language so I don't have to guess, but I do have to guess. I'm always guessing and getting things wrong." He swallows, thick and wet into the phone mic, a little exhalation at the end, like it's an effort to keep his spit inside his mouth. "Hollander, you are drunk. Are you alone?" -- 7am in the morning, in Moscow, Ilya wakes up to a drunk phone call from 11pm Dallas.

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  18. This can't happen. Shane can't have feelings for Rozanov. Where could that possibly lead? Nowhere good, surely. Rozanov is not someone he can have. Not beyond the occasional hookup. That is the line they have drawn, no matter how blurred it becomes in Shane’s mind when he is laying blissed-out next to him, so close he swears he can hear Rozanov’s heart pounding just as loud as his own. No, it is casual. That’s what Rozanov wants. And if he senses that Shane wants anything else, anything more, he will end this. Shane is sure of it. He must find a way to be content with what he is given. Let himself down easy, now, before this gets out of hand. OR: After Shane almost sends the "we didn't even kiss text" in the Vegas elevator, he makes a decision to get his growing feelings for Ilya under control, once and for all. That decision includes a vow to not kiss Ilya the next time they meet up.

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  19. It's their second game since Tampa, and there's a new ease to this thing between Shane and Ilya. They're playing so hard, and it's going so well. That is, until Cliff Marlow lines up a slap shot and hits more than just net... [New bonus chapter added!]

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  20. “Ilya,” he clarified, wincing as he swallowed, his throat feeling like he’d eaten a fistful of glass. “I need to call Ilya.”

    He fumbled around for his phone, desperately needing to hear his fiance’s voice. Together, they could figure this out. They’d make a plan. Ilya could drive with his parents from Ottawa and–

    But Ilya wasn’t in Ottawa. He was in Russia.

    No.

    No.

    They’d kill Ilya in Russia. They’d kill him, or arrest him, or– or–

    Oh god, they’d kill him.
    __________________________________________________________________________

    A family emergency means Ilya is in Russia when Hayden's FanMail video ends up on Twitter, outing them to the entire world. It, predictably, ends horribly.

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    4 versions
    AO3:
    #77085301
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